quite often when i’ve ate my dinthe folks i know won’t say hellothough i nod and wave they act like they’venever seen my face and away they raceleaving me alone to cry and moanwhat could it be that makes them flee?yet deep down i know with each burp i blowthat my bagel breath sickens them to deathyes my love of onion has me shunned andall this scorn leaves me somewhat tornshould i change my flavor to gain their favor —or enjoy my food in solitude?